Run, Girl, Run
by sergeant-bullshit
Summary: I was forced to move to the small town of Hemlock Grove after a terrible accident left me permanently disabled. This town was supposed to be a new start for me, instead I found myself caught in a place full of darkness, deceit, and mystery. At the center of everything, the Godfreys always seem to be involved. This isn't the change I had in mind. -Rating will change to M- RomanXOC
1. Chapter 1

**I had this idea for a story for a couple of days, and decided to finally write it out! Reviews/feedback is appreciated! Enjoy xoxo**

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The body has a really funny way of dealing with pain. No, I don't mean how the pain receptors and nerves work, I mean the psychological stuff behind it. Like, the brain registers that you're in pain and that something fucked up has happened to you, so it does what it can to defend itself or yourself, I guess. It's all really confusing to try and explain to someone who has never experienced an accident like I had. Not that I find it super hard to talk about what happened to me, but more that I don't think I can get the words across right at all, if that makes sense?

Anyway, I guess I should stop being so Goddamn vague. Early last year, it was around mid-January I believe, I was sixteen years old. I was in Wisconsin, visiting my dad for a few days. It was night time and he was driving me to the airport, going pretty fast because I had to get to the airport so I didn't miss my flight back home to mom in Virginia. It was snowing and the roads were covered with slick ice.

I'm sure you already know where this is headed.

It was a two-lane road, one side going the direction dad and I were traveling, the other going the opposite way. There was a semi-truck coming up, going the opposite way, when my dad lost control of the car. He jerked the wheel back and forth, but the tires continued to slide. We started to spin, and that's when things started to get hazy for me.

Like, I remember my dad swearing, I remember screaming in fear, and I remember the bright lights of the semi-truck and the screeching of rubber. There was a loud crash, and this white-hot, intense pain. I had never felt pain so terrible in my whole life, then the pain started to dull until it was completely numb. I remember feeling cold, and felt like I was lying on something hard. There were flashing red and blue lights, and someone's voice that I didn't recognize trying to talk to me, but I couldn't respond.

I was told I was drifting in and out of consciousness later; that was when I woke up in the hospital. I felt stiff and confused waking up, as I'm sure anyone does when they wake up from a traumatic accident. My body was covered with bandages, I had an IV in and was hooked up to this machine with a ton of wires – sorry I don't know the medical technicality of it, this is just what I can recall. I sat up, and tried to swing my legs off the bed to try and stand, but when I tried, nothing happened. It was by far the strangest feeling, one that I'm still trying to cope with. I couldn't understand why my legs weren't working, until I removed the hospital covers and saw that they were gone.

Yup, my legs were gone, right above the knee.

I don't think I comprehended what happened right away? I'm sure a lot of drugs were being pumped into me, so my head felt swimmy, and I didn't feel in pain at that moment. A nurse and doctor had come in to check on me and explain what was going on. Part of me, even now, still can't quite grasp what was going on. Everything felt like a blur, or one of those half-awake dreams when you try to take a nap during class. It didn't even click when they told me that dad had died in the crash. My therapist told me that was a normal reaction, learning that you're a double-amputee and that a parent is dead in the same moment was very traumatizing. I guess she's right, I just remember being numb and shocked I guess. Still am.

The months of recovery was hell on earth. I honestly didn't think I could ever bring myself to walk again. I had lost way too much weight while staying in the hospital, and the constant pain didn't seem worth all the effort to try to heal. My therapist told me that losing limbs often makes people feel depressed, so I guess that is what I felt. I didn't want to move, eat, or talk to anybody. The worst was the Phantom Limb syndrome, as they called it in the hospital. It felt like my legs were still there, I swear I could feel them twitch and stuff, so I would to kick them out. Of course, nothing happened, and I knew it was stupid to think something would. Sometimes I thought I was just sleeping and would wake up, but this constant nightmare was real.

My mom eventually took me back home to Virginia. I had missed a lot of school. I came home to a lot of flowers and cards from classmates at school and friends – I didn't know most of the kids who signed them, nor did I care that much. My mom tried to keep things normal with the same routines, but I wasn't fitting in anymore. My mom called the therapist, the one I had back in Wisconsin, and told her I wasn't coping well. My therapist told her a change of scenery would probably be best for me. So, she decided to pack up and move, telling me moving to a different state would make everything feel better. During the drive I felt the same, staring out the car window, not talking. My mom would try to start conversations with me, but I just never felt like talking anymore. I feel bad for my mom, she tries really hard to make me feel better. When I first got fitted for my prosthetics, she chose black and purple ones that were decorated with skulls, knowing I would like them. Yeah, the style was cool, but I can't say I _love_ my prosthetics. These things couldn't replace my legs, no matter how cool the design looked.

The physical pain was hard, sure, but nothing is as bad as the mental stuff that comes along with missing legs. People stare, _a lot._ I walk too damn slow with those stupid lofstrand crutches, missing the days when I could freely move about. I know looking at me you probably wouldn't guess it, but I was a runner. I loved to run, I would do it nearly every day at Virginia Beach. I felt so free when I ran in the wide open, honestly nothing can beat the feeling. I even ran for the track team at school, something people thought was funny.

The emo girl running track? What?

Yeah, that's what most people called me at school, since many didn't know my name. I always thought that way of thinking was stupid. So, because I wear mostly black means I can't be on the track team or play sports? So stupid.

But now running had been taken from me, and I felt like I'd never be happy again. I was told it was possible that I would be able to run again, there were athletes with amputated legs who ran, it would just take time. I didn't feel strong enough, especially since I could barely walk without the help of my shitty crutches. The doctor said exercise was how I would improve my muscle strength and control so I could move normally again, but it was so hard and I was beyond frustrated. I didn't even like to look at myself in the mirror, the change of my body was ugly to me. Those around me told me I was being too hard on myself, but it was just a natural thought.

Not only can I not move around because I was still going through the long-term rehabilitation process, my mom had uprooted us and was moving us to some small town in Pennsylvania called Hemlock Grove. I had never heard of it before. Mom said it was a former steel mill town, or something, not that I gave much of a shit. Now I had to start at a new high school and get used to new people staring at me, not that I really ever got used to it. Not only that, but because I missed so much school, I had to take extra classes to make up for what I missed so I could still graduate. Mom said I was lucky that I wasn't held back and was still considered a senior. Since I spent a lot of time in bed during the early months, I spent most time doing homework and catching up on assignments from my old school. My mom said that's what saved me from being held back.

Now it was time for me to face the first day of school.

* * *

I studied myself in the large vanity in my new room, in the small apartment mom and I had recently moved into. I had braided parts of my brown hair and pulled it back into a sleek, long ponytail, applied light eyeliner, mascara, and foundation, but still loathed parts of my appearance. I picked my favorite Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and was wearing one of my favorite skirts that went down to my knees, showing off the lower half of my prosthetic legs. My lean body had grown too thin, I was still trying to put weight back on. Much to my annoyance, even my boobs shrank from the weight loss caused by the accident and the hospital stays. The accident also left me with a lot of bad scars all across my body, one including my left cheek. My therapist told me that hiding my scar and prosthetics would make my insecurities worse, so she told me show them off with pride.

I was showing them, but I found no pride in it.

I hobbled my way to the kitchen, to find my mom unpacking some boxes. She stopped, hearing the clicking of the crutches on the linoleum floor, and turned toward me. She smiled, a sad smile with a bit of pity masked behind it that I hated. She went over to the couch and retrieved my backpack for me, putting it on my shoulders for me. She smelled like pomegranates, from the shower wash we both used, and her hair was slightly curled at the ends. I didn't know if she was going out today to do more job interviews, but I decided not to ask.

"You look very pretty, darling."

"Thanks," I mumbled, adjusting the straps on my backpack.

"Are you sure you want to take the bus? I can drive you," she suggested.

"No, it's fine."

She smiled sadly at me again, and I fought the urge not to roll my eyes. I knew she meant well, but being pitied was one thing that really got on my nerves.

"Good luck today, go and make some new friends," my mom said as she hugged me goodbye.

"Sure," I replied, flatly.

I doubted anyone would want to be friends with a cripple like me, a term my mom told me was self-degrading and derogatory, and that I shouldn't use it. Whatever, that's what I am and how I felt. My friends had gradually lost touch with me back home after the accident, too nervous to see me. I couldn't even keep them, how was I going to make new friends as a stranger in this small town? All people would do is stare or asked how I lost my legs, and that's all they usually would say to me. Nothing would change, I was sure of it.

I left the apartment and waited reluctantly at the bus stop, gripping the handles of my crutches a little too tightly. As the bus rolled up, the door flew open. I looked up at the bus steps, feeling daunted by the steepness. This town was so damn small, it didn't even have the funding to accommodate those with disabilities like myself, I guessed. When my mom registered me for Hemlock Grove High, she told the school everything, and yet here I was, expected to climb stairs, something I haven't done since before the accident. Very cautiously I climbed the steps, keeping my crutches securely in front of me. It took me several minutes to get all the way up. I heard kids on the bus groan with impatience. When I was fully in sight, they all fell silent, all their eyes looking down at my prosthetics. I limped down the aisle, my awkward gait even more unorthodox as I maneuvered through the narrow aisle. I heard them whispering, looking at me with curiosity as I passed. I never liked the first day of school, but now I really hated it with a fiery passion. I felt like a freak among all these normal students, and I wasn't even at the school yet. I chose an empty seat not too far back, not wanting to repeat the process of struggling to walk in the bus more than I needed to. I stared out the window, refusing to look at anybody.

School itself was boring. The teachers went over what to expect for the class, and introduced me as the new student joining the school. I didn't smile or wave, and the students didn't greet me in a friendly manner, either. What I gathered from my short time living in the town was that the citizens were weary of outsiders, and those who looked different too, I suppose. I took notes, kept to myself, ate by myself, tried to ignore all the eyes on me, and watched the clock tick by slowly. A few kids asked me in class how I lost my legs, only to be shushed by the teachers. That was fine with me, I didn't feel like talking anyway. The day dragged on so slow it felt like two days, and I was counting down the minutes until the final bell rung. I had one more period to go until I was free from the walls of this high school, but thinking about facing the bus again didn't make me feel much better.

Little did I know that my day would take a turn for the bizarre.

I was limping my way down the hallway, headed toward the final class of the day. I took my time, since the school allowed me extra time to make it from class to class because of my handicap. It sounded like a crowd of people chanting, grabbing my attention. There was a group of students were huddled around something against the wall. From their tone, it sounded like they were teasing someone. I wanted to turn and go the other way, but they were standing right where I needed to go. I hesitantly hobbled toward them and saw who they were making fun of.

There was a huge girl on the ground, by huge I mean tall, like _really_ tall. She had black hair hanging in her face, bandaged hands, and a cell phone hung around her neck. Her head was slightly bowed, and was breathing heavily like she was sobbing. My heart panged with sadness, feel horrible just watching this scene play out. I don't know what came over me, I wasn't what I described as a brave person, but this girl was different and was being made fun of for it. It really struck a nerve with me.

"Just leave her alone!"

The group of bullies grew quiet, and glanced over at me. I tried my best to glare furiously at them, but honestly, I was a bit scared. I had gotten involved with something that had nothing to do with me, and now I was most likely going to be a victim for these kids. They looked over my appearance, and sneered, others laughed. The girl on the floor looked over at me, I could see one tear-filled eye peeking out from behind her hair. I gripped my crutches tighter, trying to stand tall.

"This fucking school is being infested with freaks!" One of the boys at the head of the group jeered.

Some kids chortled like it was the funniest thing they ever heard. Part of me wanted to ask: is that the best you got? Because honestly, that was pathetic, but I didn't want to add more fuel to the fire than I needed to.

"Don't you have better things to do then pick on the disabled?" I asked, irritated.

"Maybe she's right, what if Roman finds out?" A girl from the crowd questioned.

I didn't know who Roman was, but I could sense the shift in mood amongst the group. Some of them almost seemed afraid. The group decided to disperse, heading to class or God knows wherever. I went over to the girl, still sitting on the floor. She glanced up at me, still shaken up, but calmer.

"Are you all right?" I asked her.

She nodded, then grabbed the cellphone around her neck with two of her working fingers. She started to type into the phone as quickly as she could.

A monotone, robotic female voice spoke from the phone: "Thank you for helping me."

I smiled down at her, and she did the same, showing off a mouth-full of braces.

"No problem, us misfit toys need to stick together."

She laughed at the reference, though her laugh sounded like a breathy exhale from her restricted throat, but the smile in her green eyes was undeniable. She wiped the tears from her eye with the back of her bandaged hand, then typed back into the phone.

"What's your name?" The phone voice asked.

"My name is Lucy, yours?"

She stood up, and I admit I was quite shocked by how much she towered over me. Her appearance did cause me to be taken aback, but from the short time I had been talking to this girl, she seemed sweet… and I was in desperate need for a friend.

The girl typed into her phone again, letting the text-to-speech do all the work: "I'm Shelley Godfrey."

She suddenly frowned like she realized something and started to type on her phone again: "I'm sorry, I don't want you to be late to class."

I chuckled. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure the teacher will give us both a pass, considering the circumstances."

Mom ended up being right; I did make a friend that day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to everyone who has followed and favorited the story, you guys rock!**

 **And a HUGE thank you to harleyquinn87 for the review! I just started watching Hemlock Grove, and am almost done with season 1, but I went into the show knowing a lot of spoilers unfortunately. This story isn't going to follow the plot of the show _exactly_ , but it won't be too far off. **

**I hope you all enjoy the next chapter! Feedback is always appreciated! Xoxo**

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After the final class, the lovely, piercing harmony of the final bell rang. Students hopped up out of their desks without hesitation, packing their bags and shuffling out the door before they could be stopped. I would be right behind them if I could move that quickly. As I packed my backpack, and gripped my crutches to leave, I realized I hadn't retained a single thing the teacher had said in class. My eagerness to get home was one reason, the other was I couldn't stop thinking about that Shelley girl.

She was the most unique-looking person I had ever meant, and I've met _a lot_ of different looking people from my long hospital stays. Though she couldn't speak, her grammar and word choice was intelligent. From what I gathered from talking before class, and walking with each other down the hallways, she was a kind girl that had trouble fitting in, just like me. What I couldn't figure out was how students would go from bullying her to suddenly being _afraid_ to bully her. I mean, I'm glad the bastards backed off, but something genuinely spooked them. Regardless of whatever was going on in this school, I was glad I met Shelley. I hoped I would see her again as I made my way to the bus lot, keeping my eyes out for a giant girl wouldn't be too difficult.

At the entrance of the school, down the steps (ugh, stairs), I saw her waiting curbside, staring down the street like she expecting somebody. I guessed she wasn't taking the buses, but I wanted to tell her goodbye anyway. I slowly approached, exerting more than I should be trying to walk down these damn steps, and came up behind her.

"Hey, Shelley."

She whirled around, surprised to hear her name. When she realized it was me, her eyes softened and she smiled. She took her phone and started to type.

"Hi Lucy, are you waiting for your ride too?"

"No, I'm actually headed for the buses. I just wanted to say see ya later," I replied, suddenly feeling silly that I had even done this. She must think I was desperate now.

"Hey, fuckin' cripple!"

An unpleasant voice shouted down the sidewalk, interrupting us. We both turned to see one of the kids who was in the bullying group earlier, staring at me. I expected to be a target after sticking up for Shelley, but I was really hoping the jerks would forget about me. Guess not... The smug looking blond kid approached us, the sneer on his face as horrible as his personality.

"Going home with Shelley so you two can finger each other in private?"

"I got your finger, right here," I snapped, flicking him the bird.

The blond bully turned his attention to Shelley, looking her up and down in disgust.

"I guess it's true, the ugly freaks really do stick together," he jeered.

Shelley shrank back in hurt and sadness, which just made my blood boil. My patience for this stupid dickhead was really wearing thin. The two of us were just standing, minding our own damn business, and this asshole just had to strut on over here to take time out of his day to insult us. So pathetic.

"Why don't you fuck off, huh?" I clipped, "Seriously, do you really have that much of a sad, stupid life that you have to go out of your way to bother us? Fucking grow up, dick."

His eyes narrowed on me, not taking the insult lightly. He took a step closer to me, and I leaned back slightly, still holding my crutches firmly.

"Watch your fuckin' mouth, bitch, you're gonna regret saying that," he told me, darkly, jabbing his pointer finger in my direction.

"What's going on?"

Another voice interrupted us. On the curb, behind the shithead bully, a red Jaguar car had pulled up. I was so distracted by this asshat that I didn't even notice the shiny, red car had drove up. A very tall, lean boy was standing outside the car by the driver seat, leaning against the open door. His expensive clothes and slicked back hair just screamed the word: "rich". His green eyes glanced between the three of us, but his steely gaze settled on the bully.

"Nothing," the bully muttered.

I was surprised to see the bully looking almost scared of whoever this guy was. The rich boy walked around his car, coming right up to Shelley. He looked her over with a methodical, but caring eye, so I relaxed knowing she wasn't about to be bullied _again_ by another punk _._ The rich boy looked over at me, his green eyes were almost entrancing as he stared right through my soul. I had to avert my own eyes, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"Get the fuck out of here," the rich kid growled at the bully.

The bully left at once, like a little puppy retreating with his tales between his legs. I couldn't help but grin triumphantly at the dickhead as he scurried off to wherever he was headed before.

"That's right, run away, pussy," I said aloud.

The rich boy and Shelley glanced over at me. Shelley smiled, but the boy seemed suspicious of my presence. Honestly, his scrutinizing gaze was making me super uncomfortable, so I decided I would make up an excuse to head back over to the buses.

"Who are you?" The rich kid asked, his tone sounded like he wanted to give me an interrogation.

Shelley quickly typed into her phone, her bandaged hand brushing the rich boy's forearm to get his attention.

"She's my friend," Shelley's phone said.

"Your friend?" The kid questioned, he looked back over at me. His eyes were now less intense, so I feel like I could relax a little.

"Yes, she stopped some students from bullying me today," Shelley's phone added.

"Is that so?" The rich kid asked, looking back over at Shelley. His attention went back to me as I waited before him, awkwardly.

"Any friend of my sister's is a friend of mine," the brother said, extending his hand. "Roman Godfrey."

So this was that Roman person one of the bitchy, bully girls in the crowd mentioned today, was also Shelley's brother. This was the guy they were all so afraid of? I mean, yeah, he was really tall, but he didn't seem very threatening, other than that killer bitchface stare he had. I took his hand, his long fingers engulfed my entire hand as I shook it.

"Lucy," I greeted, a bit skeptical of him.

"Do you need a ride home, Lucy?" Roman asked.

"No, I was going to take-" I pointed back toward the bus lot, only to see that the last few buses were already pulling out and headed toward their routes. "-the bus…" I finished lamely, realizing I had missed my ticket home.

"I can give you a ride," Roman requested.

Shelley nodded her head in agreement, smiling at me reassuringly. I felt taken aback by this guy's random kindness, but if Shelley was his sister, maybe kindness was a trait in the family? Who knows, I didn't know anyone yet in this damn town.

"Um, thanks," I mumbled.

* * *

The ride home was strange. Roman didn't really talk, and I didn't feel very comfortable talking in front of him for some reason. I could feel his green eyes watching me through the rear-view mirror. He didn't seem to trust me, even though he offered me a ride home. Shelley sat in the passenger's seat, her bandaged hands folded neatly in her lap. The only words I had even muttered was the directions on how to get to my apartment complex, and that was it. Shelley turned back to face me, still smiling her braces-filled smile.

She typed into her phone: "Thank you again for fending off Bryan."

"Who's Bryan?"

"That boy that appeared to be harassing you both," Roman answered, his eyes locked on the road.

"No problem, he's an ass."

Shelley nodded in agreement, giggled slightly with that strange, restricted throaty sound she made. Roman smiled slightly at his sister's laughter, patting her shoulder lovingly. I watched the exchanged curiously. I was an only child, so seeing siblings interact was always interesting to me.

"What brings you to Hemlock Grove?" Roman asked me.

"Needed to get away, fresh start, all that jazz," I replied, staring out the tiny window in the backseat.

"By fresh start I assume it has something to do with your legs?"

Shelley looked over at her brother, her expression appearing alarmed and disapproving of his words.

"Yeah, that's right," I answered, not feeling offended. They were giving me a ride home, I didn't care if he asked me about the accident.

"What happened?"

I sighed. "Car accident, a really bad one. My legs had to be amputated. My mom and my therapist thought moving to a different state would help me recover."

Roman considered my words a moment. "And did it help?"

"Too early to tell."

Shelley glanced back at me, her visible eye looking sad for me. I didn't like pity, but it wasn't the same form coming from her. She typed into her phone, still facing me.

"I'm sorry," the phone said.

I shrugged, "it's okay, not your fault."

Roman pulled into my apartment complex, and in front of my building, parking close by. He got out of the car, and so did Shelley so they could move the seat for me. The two of them assisted me in getting out, handing me my crutches once I was settled on solid ground.

"Thank you for the ride, I really appreciate it," I said to Roman. I looked over at Shelley, "I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay?"

Shelley grinned and nodded. She typed into her phone: "What's your phone number?"

We exchanged numbers under Roman's watchful eye. I was taken aback how protective he was of his sister, but if she was harassed on a daily basis at school, I understood why. Still, it was nice to have someone I considered a friend.

"See you around, Lucy," Roman said as he walked his sister back to the car.

Something about the way he said that seemed layered, like another meaning was hidden belief, but I decided I was just being paranoid, and shrugged it off.

I watched the two of them leave in their fancy car and pull out of my dingy little apartment complex. I wondered if they actually were from a wealthy family, and how their house looked. I'm sure it was spacious and glamorous if they could afford a Jaguar as nice as that one. I turned and hobbled back to my apartment, to find my mom standing in the doorway.

"I wondered why you weren't on the bus," she said.

"Yeah, I missed it, sorry," I responded.

"Were those new friends of yours?"

I looked back to where they had parked. Shelley was someone I knew I could call a friend, but I wasn't sure about her brother yet. He seemed like a hard person to read.

"They girl is, yeah. That guy was her brother. I missed the bus so they offered me a ride," I explained, looking back at my mom.

I thought mom would be mad that I didn't tell her that I missed the bus, but instead she grinned happily.

She gripped my shoulders excitedly. "Oh, I knew you'd make friends!"

"Yeah, I guess you were right."

"And that car, wow!"

Honestly, anything looked better than our ten-year-old, beat up Chevy. We went into the apartment, and mom wanted to hear _everything_ about my day, and my mysterious new friends. I didn't have too much to report, school as boring, and I just met Shelley today so I didn't have many details yet.

"Well, is the school nice?" My mom questioned.

I tossed my backpack onto the couch, and limped by way over to the fridge to get some iced tea.

"Not really, none of them really talked to me," I replied, leaving out the bully situation. There was no need to worry my mother this soon into my academic career.

"They just have to get warmed up to you, that's all."

My mother, forever the optimist. I gave a half-hearted shrug in response, and chugged down the tea, feeling parched. She sat down at our wooden, rickety kitchen table, staring at me expectantly to go on.

"Do you have a lot of homework?"

"No, since it's the first day we didn't really get too many assignments," I said, throwing away the now empty bottle of iced tea.

"Remember you have the make-up class after school today. I'll try to be there on time to pick you up, I work a double-shift tomorrow."

I groaned, now limping my way toward my room.

"I'm sorry, dear, maybe your new friends could give you a ride again?"

"I just met them, mom, I don't want to mooch off of them," I replied.

The last thing I wanted to do was inconvenience Shelly and her brother. My mom made a face in thought, knowing that I was right (though she would never admit it).

"Well text me tomorrow if you do need a ride," she said to me before I entered my room.

I was feeling sore from all the walking and stair climbing I did today, even though I knew it wasn't that much, but my muscles in what remained of my upper thighs were weak. I needed to rest. I sat on my bed, placing my crutches beside the wall. I lifted up my prosthetic legs onto the bed, and readied myself to take them off. I rolled off the sleeve art on my fake legs (the part with the colored designs and skulls on it), exposing the fiberglass shell underneath. The prosthetics I use are temporary legs, and not definitive legs. Getting definitive prosthetic legs is extremely expensive, and mom had already drained so much of our funds just keeping me mobile with therapy, hospital bills, the move, rent, and the legs I had now. The final leg process takes a while, too, like the doctor told me I have to go through several sockets before I could get fit for a final (definitive) leg, or whatever. Yeah, there's a lot of steps to being an amputee, all of them annoying as hell.

I pushed the pin by my ankle in, releasing the socket, and slipped my fake leg off, and did the same with the other, putting the hollow shells I considered legs beside the bed. I took off the liners (attached to the socket) slipped on the rounded nubs of my legs, exposing the amputated scars at the end of my thighs. I placed those by my prosthetic legs as well. I looked down at the small nubs I had left, wiggling them around on the bed. It felt good to take the fake sockets out after a long day of use, but not as great knowing now that I was pretty much immobile unless I went through the process of putting everything back on.

I flopped down on my pillow, closing my eyes and letting myself take in the peaceful tranquility my small bedroom offered me. I thought about school tomorrow, dreading it slightly, but knowing that I actually had someone to talk to didn't make it seem so bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much to everyone who continues to read, follow, and favorite the story! BIG thank you to those who reviewed:**

 **Winchestergirl123, I'm super glad you like the story so far! I just started reading your Hemlock Grove story, and I'm enjoying it!**

 **Thank you for another review harleyquinn87! You're awesome!**

 **Nina The Keyblade Mistress, thank you for your interest in the story!**

 **I'm updating much faster than I originally anticipated, but I'm just super inspired to keep updating this story. I hope you all continue to enjoy! XOXO**

 **EDIT: I forgot to mention, Lucy's appearance is based off of actress Kathryn Newton, except she has brown hair instead of blonde!**

* * *

Bullies sure do make the world go 'round.

My lovely peers at Hemlock Grove didn't like my attitude or my inept ability to shoot off my mouth without thinking. I guess they thought that missing legs would make me a passive person, but I was no way in hell passive. When the cruel remarks would be made, I'd lash out back at them, taking them by surprise and making their tempers flare. I probably should've cooled it a bit, but I wasn't going to allow myself to be a submissive pushover – that wasn't my style.

In the cafeteria, I sat by myself as I had been doing the first few days of school. Shelley had a different lunch period than I did, so I literally had no one I could sit with. I ate my shitty peanut butter and jelly, and my greasy Lays chips. I never had time in the morning to pack myself a decent lunch, not with the process of putting on my prosthetic legs in the morning. After slipping everything on, I had to cautiously stand up and put all my weight onto my prosthetics, trying to keep my balance. I had to wait until I heard the 'click' of the sockets sliding into place, and walk in place for a moment to test if it worked. Sometimes it took several times, and this process could go on for several minutes. I put on my 'I HEART BOWIE' t-shirt, with the Ziggy-Stardust bolt going through the heart, and a pair of ripped, loose jeans. That's pretty much all I had time for. So, I packed a terrible lunch; I didn't even like potato chips.

I looked over my school planner as I ate, checking due dates for assignments. I wasn't the best student, but I promised my mom I would turn it around my senior year. I already had another extra class after school today, so that gave me less time to do homework for my other classes.

Someone slid into the seat across from me. I glanced up, still chewing those nasty chips. A cherub-looking girl with long brown hair was staring intently at me, clutching some kind of journal to her chest. She didn't speak right away, she just stared at me like a weirdo. I raised my eyebrows at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something.

"What do you want?" I finally asked.

"I'm Christina Wendall, aspiring author," she introduced, her tone of voice somewhat arrogant.

"Okay?"

"I just wanted to ask you some questions," she snapped open her journal and produced a pen.

"About what?" I stared at her skeptically.

"I'm doing research for a book I'm writing," she answered, scribbling something down in her journal.

"You writing a book about amputees or something?"

"No, it's a book about the supernatural."

"I don't follow."

Christina stopped writing and placed her hands on the table, and leaned in, lowering her voice to a close whisper.

"There's a werewolf in our school, I've spoken to him."

I gazed at her in disbelief for a moment, not sure if this girl was being serious.

"Are you high?"

"No, I wanted to warn you because the werewolf has been hanging out with Roman Godfrey, so you should keep your distance. Werewolves like easy prey," Christinia continued. "I saw you hanging out with the Godfreys the other day."

I took a sip of my iced tea, and rolled my eyes. The rumor mill in this school was definitely toxic, and spread quickly. I overheard the people talking about me getting into Roman's car and spending time with Shelley. Now I was suddenly in danger of being attacked by a made up creature? Hemlock Grove was definitely a bizarre place.

"What's it to you?" I jabbed, leaning in and matching her tone.

"Everyone knows the Godfreys are freaks. They use their wealth to exploit members of the town, and ruin their jobs," she responded sharply.

"Oh, and you're a shining example of normal?" I countered, unable to filter myself.

This was exactly the reason why people around here didn't like me. She probably didn't mean any harm, but I was already annoyed by her pretentious nature. Christina became cross, her small, brown eyes narrowing. She snapped her journal shut, making it slam as loud as she could against the table. I couldn't help but grin at her pathetic effort to make a statement and stir up conflict. I don't have many skills, but reading people was something I was good at. I knew just the type of girl she was. She played the sweet, innocent, and brainy type, but underneath she was super insecure about something and desperately craved attention.

"What's going on here, Christina?"

Two blonde girls, I assumed were twins, approached from behind her. They stared at me with judgmental eyes, roaming over my appearance with distaste. I took another sip of my tea, keeping my eyes locked on them.

"What are you doing talking to this loser? Everyone knows she's nothing but the Godfreys new little bitch," one of the girls insulted, causing her twin to force out a laugh.

"He's way out of your league, honey, Roman only sleeps with cheerleaders and gorgeous women," the other twin added. "He wouldn't even accept a handjob from the likes of you."

"So, you're not on his radar too, huh?" I dead-panned.

Wow, I am a bitch, and I just couldn't stop. Watching their faces change from delighted to upset was making my day. Christina stood up, standing beside her blonde friends. She appeared a bit uncomfortable, averting her eyes from me and the twins.

"Shut up, you skank!" One of the twins erupted. Other kids in the cafeteria turned to look at the commotion.

"You're not going to gain anything hanging out with Roman, or using his sister to get close to him is just sad," the other twin added. "You're never going to be popular, so just drop the act of chasing after Roman, it's dreadful to watch. He's already fucked most of the girls in this school, but he'll make an exception for you. He only dates girls with nice bodies, and that includes legs."

Ouch. Honestly, I didn't find Roman all that attractive when I first met him. He was by no means ugly, but I had seen hotter looking guys before. His height was nice, but at the same time it made him look a bit lanky, and I found his eyes weird. I didn't know he was the school's heartthrob, but I'm sure his wealth was a factor into that.

"Damn, you all sure are obsessed with me. I'm friends with Shelley Godfrey, I don't know anything about Roman. Sorry to burst your gossiping bubbles. Don't you bimbos have better things to do than harass a crippled girl? Move along," I waved them away like an irritating fly, turning my attention away from them.

As the three girls stalked away, I had no idea I had started an all-out war. Quite stupid, really, the things teenagers get mad about.

* * *

I was leaving Literature class when the first shot of the "war" had been fired. I almost dropped my crutches when I exited the classroom and saw the pictures plastered on nearly every locker, down every corridor, on every door.

It was a picture of me from my last track championship.

My hair was pulled back in a high pony-tail, my face contorted in an expression of both exhaustion and determination. It was mid-day during that run and hot, so me and the other girls didn't wear a lot of clothing when we run, strictly for athletic purposes. I wore a black sports bra that hugged my chest, exposing my taut stomach, defined from years of exercise and practice. And I wore tiny black shorts, showing off the muscles in my strong legs. Sweat gleamed on my exposed skin in the picture as the shot was taken right when I set foot on the finish line. The second picture was of me wearing the first-place medal around my neck, smiling with genuine joy, something I hadn't done in a very long time. I posed with my hands on my hips, looking confident, tired, but overall exhilarated. I had worked my way from regionals, and this was my state-wide track win. I was supposed to go to nationals the next year, but that never happened.

That was the last competitive race I had ever run.

Students stared at the pictures, taking them off their locker, commenting on them. The pictures had been published back in Virginia in the local paper, and on my old school's website, but how did this bully know where and what to look for? I knew this was the work of the Sworns and the rest of the group of troublemakers, meant as a tasteless jab to make me feel sad about my legs and the loss of what I used to have. I wasn't embarrassed by the pictures at all, so the attempt was poor anyway. This just proved what I said earlier, these peeps were obsessed with me.

I limped down the hallways as people stared, some whispering, some who were also bullies jeering, but most just stared. I didn't give a shit, I was proud of the accomplishments I was able to make in my short life, and even shorter time as an abled person. As I walked down the hallway I was so focused on going to the next class and avoiding everyone, that I didn't even notice Roman leaning up against the lockers, the pictures of me in his hands. He was staring at them intently, so I don't know how he even noticed me, either.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, almost making me jump. It was Roman, staring at me questionably, the pictures of me in his large hands.

"What's all this about?"

I shrugged. "Retaliation against me I'm guessing. I met the _divine_ Sworn twins today, they were in that group bullying Shelley, so I'm sure they are involved."

Roman was so fixated on the picture, I started to feel a bit flustered. I wasn't one-hundred percent comfortable with Roman yet, still not knowing much about him. Humor and sarcasm were my greatest weapons against awkwardness.

I gave him a playful shove on his forearm, getting his attention: "I used to be a total babe, am I right?" I joked.

To my relief, the corner of Roman's full lips turned upward into a smile. I looked down at the old pictures of me and sighed, feeling nostalgic from my glory days.

"Ironic, isn't it? I used to be able to run like the fucking wind, now I can barely walk. I was headed to the national championships, before the accident ruined my chances."

Roman tossed the paper on the ground carelessly, his eyes scanning the hallways. People didn't bother me while I was next to Roman, which was nice. I glanced up at the clock hanging in the hallway, knowing that if I didn't hustle soon (not that I really could), I would be late even with the extra time I was given.

"Shel saw these, and is worried about you," Roman told me.

"I think everyone in the school has seen it at this point."

Roman was silent for a moment, studying my face. I felt scrutinized again under his gaze, and nervously looked away, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. He took out a cigarette and lit it, uncaring that he was in a school hallway.

"Let's go," he said, striding past me.

"W-What?" I stammered.

"I want to see something," he said, opening one of the doors to the school's staircases. No one was in there, everyone was either in class or skipping it somewhere else.

"I have another class to get to, and one after school," I replied anxiously, feeling very worried about being alone with him for reasons I didn't understand.

Roman rolled his eyes in mild annoyance, the cigarette hanging loosely in between his lips. He motioned me over again. What was I going to do, outrun him? I reluctantly limped on ahead, passing him and stiffening up as my proximity to Roman grew closer. He closed the door behind me, leaving us on the middle level of the school, beside stairs going up and down. If he wanted me to climb or walk down stairs, he was out of luck. Most of my classes were on the same level because of my disability, and I didn't want to take time using the stairs just to follow Roman into wherever he was leading me.

In a swift motion, he snatched the crutches from my hand. Off-guard, I started to wobble, losing my balance. I could feel myself about to topple over, but Roman caught me under my arms. My crutches were on the ground beside him, and he was now leading my back to the concrete wall of the school.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded.

"Just relax, I just need to look at something," he soothed. He guided me down to a sitting position, while he, too, was now on his knees. He started to roll up my pant leg, but it got caught on the bulky part of my prosthetic.

"You want to look at my fake legs or something?" I asked, perplexed and still guarded from his intentions.

"Yes, you need to take off your pants. I can't look at it this way," he said, removing the cigarette from between his lips, and blowing out more smoke.

I felt my face grow hot, and my insides tighten up. I wondered if what the Sworn twins said about Roman fucking girls was right, but the look in his eyes didn't seem lustful or predatory like, but more curious. I glanced at the door, watching to see if anyone would come in. I undid the button of my jeans, and unzipped the zipper. Roman's hands found the waistband of my jeans, and with one tug, my pants were off.

This was definitely something he'd done before, his movement was far too nimble for this to be his first time removing a girl's article of clothing.

I crossed my legs, feeling exposed in my underwear in front of him, but his focus was on my prosthetics. He touched the smooth outside of the sleeve art, running his hand up and down the leg. My cheeks continued to burn as I watched Roman, carefully, still not fully trusting.

"Take off your prosthetics," he stated simply.

"What? Seriously, Roman, what is going on?"

"Relax."

I did as he said, sliding off the sleeve art, releasing the pin on the fiberglass shell, taking that off, and finally took off the liners, fully exposing my amputation. Roman held one of my prosthetics, looking at it for a long time, then finally turned his attention back to me, looking down what remained of my legs. Roman placed his hand over my amputation scar, and I was ready to jerk away, but his touch was so gentle that I remained still. I had no idea what in the fresh hell was happening, but I felt like I wasn't in complete control of myself if that makes sense? His hands against the soft, delicate part of my surgically altered skin felt... nice. I didn't feel panicked or in danger, I felt at ease. I felt like I was in some sort of trance, but that sounds ridiculous, I know.

"You deserve better than this, Lucy," he finally said, handing me back the parts of my prosthetics.

"Christ, I could've told you that without you stripping me down to my underwear and taking off my legs."

Roman laughed, then took another drag from his cigarette. I put my prosthetics back on, and my pants. Roman helped me up then handed me back my crutches. I leaned forward, placing all my weight back onto the prosthetics until I heard the 'clicks.' I still didn't know what just happened, but I didn't feel very nervous anymore. Roman opened the door, holding it open for me.

"Wow, quite chivalrous for a man who just forced me to take off my pants."

"Oh, darling, you have no idea," he replied, teasing me but part of me wondered what else he meant by his comment. "Now let's go get Shelley and go get something to eat, my treat."

So much for being a better student. Here I was skipping school with the Godfreys. I had become a regular delinquent.


End file.
